


Too Good to be True

by marscolony



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Semi Public Make-outs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26861302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marscolony/pseuds/marscolony
Summary: Dorian ponders his feelings for Inquisitor Trevelyan while he’s away from Skyhold. The Inquisitor “surprises” his favorite mage upon his return.
Relationships: Dorian Pavus/Male Trevelyan, Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 8
Kudos: 41





	Too Good to be True

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s a cute one shot of my fave boys. I love Dorian Pavus with my entire heart, so hot that down. He deserves all the love in Thedas.

Dorian was bored.

Skyhold, at times, felt like a prison. The titles on the rows of books in the library weren’t as enticing, no conversation offered the amusement he desired, and the glowing sunlight beyond the window beside his favorite chair felt misplaced and unwelcome.

He told himself he was bored, but he knew it was more than that. His favorite distraction was absent and had left him behind. He was finding it difficult to ignore the sting, even days later.

He didn’t expect the Inquisitor to ask him along on every outing. That would be childish. There were certain places, and climates, he was relieved not to venture into. Though he had begun to enjoy even the most dismal locals if only for Atticus’ company.

He found himself irritated at the foolishness of it. Holes in the sky, evil cults about, archdemons, and here he was, upset over a man he was lusting after. Quite like him, when he considered it.

He finally settled on a volume to peruse, propping his chin on his fist in his chair. The quiet chatter of the library was enough to distract his mind and keep him from paying attention to the words on the page.

He’d reread the same passage roughly eleven times when an abrupt beam of light blinded him. He straightened up, surprised, and the light fell away. He squinted after the beam as it passed onto his shoulder, glittering on the metal studs of his sleeve. It moved again, shining on his chest.

He glanced up for the source of the light, refracted from the sun and toward him. He found a door, opened just a crack, and noticed the sliver of a mirror as it was withdrawn.

Curiosity was a welcome change, and it seemed that he was being summoned. He abandoned his tome on the stack beside him, crossing the library to the doorway.

Dorian passed through the door, peering into the empty stone corridor. The door shut behind him, much as he expected.

“Did you have a pleasant outing, Inquisitor?” He asked disinterestedly, succeeding in keeping the smirk on his face out of his tone as he studied his nails.

“As pleasant as can be in a bog.” Atticus spoke from behind him, failing to hide all of the disappointment from his words.

“Ah yes. The Fallow Mire. Remind me to thank you for sparing me that little excursion.”

“What kind of thank you do you have in mind?” Atticus’ inquiring hand traced Dorian’s side.

Dorian felt his smile broaden. He so loved this little game. “Did you want a pat on the back? Perhaps a treat of some kind?”

Atticus laughed, retracting his hand woundedly as he circled to meet Dorian face to face. “Am I a dog?”

“Oh don’t be silly.” Dorian smiled, admiring the Inquisitor’s face. “More a bird than a dog.”

The stubble on his jaw was longer than he usually kept it, and his blue eyes were tired despite his good humor. He hadn’t added any new scars to his face, didn’t appear to have been harmed on the outing. Though he’d apparently been so eager to see him, he hadn’t changed out of his armor.

“Kind as ever, Lord Pavus.”

The handsome smile on his mouth struck Dorian as incredibly... fond.

“I’m not known for being kind, Lord Trevelyan.”

Atticus moved, pushing Dorian backward into the cool stone wall of the corridor, hands firmly on his waist. He leaned downward the fraction he needed to find his smiling lips with his own.

Dorian found himself delightedly surprised at the insistence of Atticus’ kiss, the hunger of it, the pressure, the heat. He braced his hands against his arms, feeling the tension of his toned muscle. Years of archery training had done him a service.

He was surprised at this side of the Inquisitor who’d painted himself so shy and polite.

Dorian couldn’t help recall what he’d been told about the man’s past, of the faceless sketch in his journal. A lover lost, and longed for. He wished he knew how recent the sketch had been. It grated at him.

The weight of the kiss left Dorian breathless and he leaned his head back against the stone, exhaling more shakily than he’d have preferred.

Atticus was undeterred, his mouth tracing a path downward along Dorian’s neck.

The bitter feeling in his chest was dangerous territory, but better it than anything warmer. He’d rather jealousy instead of something, well, worse. He could be a stand in if that was what Atticus desired, that wasn’t so difficult; he’d done it before. But if that was all this was, he wanted to know.

“Chasing ghosts, Inquisitor?” He breathed as a hand slid to his back, pulling him tighter to his chest.

Atticus paused, mouth lingering on his skin. He straightened up, his piercing blue eyes far more present than Dorian expected. He seemed confused by the question.

Atticus’ voice dropped low, the dulcet tone easier felt than heard. It reverberated where their bodies met. He resented how much he’d begun to adore the sound.  
“Chasing you, Dorian.”

His name on Atticus’ tongue was dangerous; it burned. It was suddenly very difficult to joke or tease. It didn’t feel like a game. The man in front of him was too good to be true.

Atticus reached up, tracing along Dorian’s jaw with his finger. The kiss that followed was sweeter than the best bottle of wine. He wanted to retreat, to pull away before he said something he might regret, something too vulnerable.

“Always chasing.” Atticus murmured against his bottom lip, leaning his weight into him.

Dorian tried to think clearly. The Inquisitor’s attentive hands on his sides, his lips tracing over his jaw and just behind his ear, made it a difficult task. Dorian clutched at his waist, reclining his head back against the stone.

“As long as you want.” Atticus murmured against the base of his ear. “ _Anything_ you want.”

The _things_ he said. Dorian sighed. The man was mad, naive perhaps, and wonderful. Too wonderful. It was more than he deserved, and far too good to be true. He wanted it to be.

“You can’t mean that.” Dorian frowned, pushing gently against Atticus’ chest.

He laughed softly, a smile on his full lips. “Of course I do.”

So earnest, so sincere, always so surprised that he could think to the contrary. Dorian didn’t know what to say. He leaned into Atticus instead, seizing a kiss of his own.

He let his hands wander, running fingers through Atticus’ short brown hair, gripping his neck, taking more from the warmth of his mouth. Atticus eagerly leaned into his grip.

Dorian knew what he wanted of the Inquisitor. Something no other man had been willing to give. He wanted more, but it was such a foolish request, one that would only hurt him in the end.

Still his heart ached for him to try. To trust the man holding him, to be vulnerable to him. To allow himself the chance to be cared for as much as he found himself caring.

It was the end of the damn world and he just wanted Atticus to _like_ him. Foolish.

Someone cleared their throat delicately at the end of the corridor.

“Careful, dears.” A familiar voice tsked. “Eyes are everywhere.”

Atticus broke from the kiss, startled by the interruption. But he didn’t pull away, only hid his face against Dorian’s shoulder. Dorian exhaled an annoyed sigh, staring scathingly after Vivinne’s retreating figure.

The chatter of the castle was much louder now in his ears, visiting dignitaries and chantry pilgrims congregating not far from where they’d chosen to steal a private moment. He certainly wasn’t ashamed, but he wasn’t as sure about Atticus.

He laughed softly, catching Dorian’s eye with a smile. “I wasn’t aware we had an audience. I apologize.”

“What’s the worst that could happen? Some chantry sister claims I’ve stolen the soul of the Herald of Andraste?”

“That does sound like something a Tevinter mage might do.” Atticus agreed, gracing Dorian with the slightest of kisses before he pulled away. “I have to meet with the Ambassador. I should go.”

“I do enjoy watching you leave.” Dorian smirked, watching the Inquisitor attempting to straighten himself up.

Atticus cast him another sheepish smile, smoothing his hair into place. He backed to the stairwell before he turned, disappearing from sight.

Dorian crossed his arms over his chest, lingering in the corridor. It was an incredibly amusing thought, the Inquisitor, Herald of Andraste, greeting obnoxious nobles and the ambassador with lips swollen from kissing him.

Too good to be true, he thought again.


End file.
